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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25943800">Touch Reminders</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollojusticeforall/pseuds/apollojusticeforall'>apollojusticeforall</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tactile [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: The Original Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Found Family, M/M, constellation myths, family by choice not by blood, home isn't a place it's the people you surround yourself with, star symbolism, the casual intimacy of touch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:41:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,290</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25943800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollojusticeforall/pseuds/apollojusticeforall</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim’s first love was the stars.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James T. Kirk &amp; Crew of the Starship Enterprise, James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tactile [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Touch Reminders</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jim’s first love was the stars.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mom liked to tell him stories of how they went camping as a family when he was little, up near his grandfather’s cabin in the woods of northern Minnesota. Jim and his brother spent the days running and rolling in mud and leaves, building tiny forts for the bugs out of twigs and chasing the squirrels that scampered between the trees. When night fell and their mom tried to put them to bed, Jim always whined, “Not yet, Mom, not yet,” and as the embers from their campfire faded to a dim orange glow, he craned his neck back and watched the stars come out, one by one, until the whole sky was lit up with constellations so intricate and overlapping that it was impossible to tell where one ended and another began. He sat there for hours, Sam snoring in their tent and their mom unzipping the flap to check on him every so often but he’d still be there, hypnotized by the transformation of the night sky, with his mouth a little agape and his eyes illuminated by infinite reflections. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She always said she knew one day he’d touch the stars. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By his fourth year as captain of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enterprise</span>
  </em>
  <span> (and the many years before that exploring the distant reaches of the galaxy), he was well-acquainted with the spherical plasma gravity wells that dotted the universe. He’d seen plenty of stars up close, witnessed their deaths in a dozen supernovas, even observed the tantalizing tug of a black hole or two (and narrowly escaped to tell the tale). Despite how the wonders of space had become the backdrop to his everyday life, he’d still sometimes look out the forward viewing screen on the ship’s bridge and marvel at the hundreds of tiny lights whizzing past in the black, still a little awestruck at how something that once looked so far away could utterly change up close. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was easy to get lost in space. No easier than getting lost crossing Earth’s Pacific Ocean, but just like the big blue waters could feel neverending in their infinite stretch to the horizon, the inky darkness could also feel all-encompassing. Stars were harder to guide by when they were constantly shifting positions in tune with the speed of the ship, and Jim was always thankful to have a working ship’s computer and a competent navigator at the helm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim could spend the rest of his life traversing the black, discovering new life, exploring the unknown, and he had every intention of doing so. But as much as the unknown excited him, it also terrified him, and he had seen plenty of new life, watched babies born and civilizations saved by compassion and love, he had also experienced plenty of heartbreak, destruction, and death. Still, he could drift forever among the stars, as long as he had something tethering him back, reminding him who he was and how he existed among the incomprehensible expanse of the cosmos.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He found his footing on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enterprise</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not just from the artificial gravity, although that was certainly helpful in running an efficient exploratory operation. No, the people on board were what grounded him in the moments he doubted his path, when he questioned why he chose to remain here in a galaxy seemingly overrun with death and loneliness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He remembered himself through Nyota Uhura, her linguistic brilliance and negotiational tact, her elegant songs and her bright smiles and her solid hugs. He stabilized himself by looking to Hikaru Sulu, the confidence in which he piloted his ship, his xenobiological fun facts, the way he handled the ship’s controls with the same delicate care he trimmed his garden’s leaves. He was guided back by Pavel Chekov, the kid’s navigational prowess and adeptness for astrophysics, his rambling Russian monologues and his tongue-in-cheek jokes and his cunning pranks (although sometimes obnoxious and always very, very messy) and his eager-eyed enthusiasm. He trusted his ship, the physical extension of his very soul, to Scotty’s fine-tuned mechanical dexterity and nearly-obsessive protectiveness, and whenever he needed a laugh, he’d find Scotty in the rec room with a bottle of Scotch telling stories about his most galvanizing bar fights.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The darkness of the deep was brushed from his mind by Spock’s constant calmness, an expression that some mistook for stoicism, but one Jim recognized as carefully constructed control. He relied on Spock’s precision, his meticulousness, his commitment to thinking through every viable option before presenting his conclusions, always backed up with irrefutable evidence or well-thought-out hypotheses (he really did trust Spock’s guesses more than most people’s facts). For a man who rejected emotional influences, Spock seemed especially in tune to Jim’s innermost doubts and insecurities, and his firm affirmations of reality were often exactly what Jim needed to pull himself back when he started to float out into the black.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bridge crew he all loved dearly, and they usually helped him to restore his hold on himself, but on the bad days—the really bad days, when Chekov’s jokes landed wrong or Uhura looked at him with sad, all-knowing eyes or not even Spock could find the perfect words to restore his faith—Jim went to sickbay. It wasn’t for the meds, although he did need refills when his insomnia got to be unbearable, but more for the one person who always anchored him when he felt most weightless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t remember what he had done before Bones became his CMO. He remembered calling him often, most times in the middle of the night planetside, and Bones would spend half the call bitching about being woken up and Jim would just be happy to hear his voice, but he couldn’t remember how that had ever been enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t remember how he had just talked to him through a screen without Bones putting a hand on his arm or bumping him with an elbow or wiping dirt off his cheeks. There wasn’t another person on the ship who Jim could go up to and press his face into their neck without an explanation, and Bones would chastise him for the latest stupid stunt he’d pulled, but he always hugged back. Usually accompanied by an eye roll of varying intensity, but his hands on Jim’s neck or his back or his shoulders were gentle, and Jim always melted a little more under his soft touch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a galaxy expanding further and further apart, Bones was his Earth, his Terra, his solid ground. Without Bones holding him down, Jim was certain he really would lose himself in the void between stars.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>* * *</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of all their more menial tasks on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enterprise</span>
  </em>
  <span>, star charting was Jim’s favorite. Naturally, he preferred the more exciting days on the bridge, but sometimes it was nice to have a quiet day of counting stars and recording their positions. The thought of discovering new constellations was itself quite thrilling, of mapping out patterns that a child on some distant planet might see when they looked into the night sky and gazed at the wonders of the universe from their own backyard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He voiced the thought aloud to Spock, who was bent over his scanner and notating the coordinates read off by Chekov.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spock straightened and turned to face him. “Indeed, Captain. These charts are invaluable for helping those after us navigate through this sector of the galaxy, where we have not seen a major planet or nebula for a few hundred astronomical units.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim shook his head. “Mr. Spock, did you ever stargaze as a kid?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His First Officer raised an eyebrow. “Why yes. As a child, I charted the celestial bodies surrounding Vulcan in all of its seasons in order to—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I mean, did you ever just look at the sky to appreciate its beauty? Ever think how fantastic it is that there’s so much life and light out there in a universe that appears so dark?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spock didn’t respond right away, and Jim thought perhaps he hadn’t heard him. Spock was studying the incomplete charts, his hands folded behind his back and his head tilted in solemn contemplation. When he looked back at Jim, the light in his dark eyes had changed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Captain, I believe I have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim grinned and held his gaze. For all intents and purposes, Spock’s face was its usual blank expression, save for the shift in color in his eyes and the tiniest upturn of the corners of his mouth—a private, reserved sort of smile that Jim felt privileged to see each time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spock looked away when Chekov called out the next coordinate. He sat back at his station and resumed plugging the numbers into the computer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim surveyed the rest of his crew. Most were looking a little glassy-eyed as they checked over their instruments. Sulu tapped boredly at the helm, Uhura had her chin propped on her fist while she listened idly to subspace chatter, and Scotty looked asleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim stood from the captain’s chair and made his way to the communications console. “Lieutenant Uhura, do you have a favorite star system?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She started a bit at his question, but then relaxed back into her chair. “I always thought the Alpha Centauri system was rather lovely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, it definitely is.” Jim leaned against her station and absentmindedly rubbed her shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, it was originally mistaken as a binary star system because of Alpha Centauri AB, but it’s actually a trinary.” Uhura removed her earpiece and set it on her console. “The gravitational force of close binary stars can eventually lead to the stars’ mutual destruction, but I think the third force helps keep balance, especially when it’s in close enough proximity to the others to share the gravitational strain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How astute of you, Lieutenant.” After processing what she’d said, he paused and looked at her. “I thought you were a linguist. When did you also become so knowledgeable in astrophysics?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugged, brown eyes wide and innocent, but a satisfied smile tugged on her lips. “Every girl has a hobby, Captain. I am cross-trained in navigation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He raised an eyebrow. “So you are.” He pushed off from his perch and paced back to the helm. “Mr. Sulu,” he said, patting the helmsman’s back. “Do you have a favorite constellation?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sulu looked over some readings on the helm while he thought. “I’d say the Lotus.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s funny, I’ve never heard of that one.” Jim frowned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably because it’s only visible on Ganjitsu, my childhood home.” The pilot laughed softly to himself. “In Buddhism, the lotus flower symbolizes enlightenment, rebirth, and overcoming obstacles. My father is very spiritual, and he used the lotus as a common symbol in his poetry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know your father was a poet. Is he any good?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sulu smiley wryly up at him. “Poetry is an art form where quality is determined by the eye of the beholder, Captain. However, the rich detail of his pastoral poems greatly influenced my interest in xenobotany.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim smiled back. “Another smart observation from an intelligent crewmember.” He patted his arm once more before moving to the other seat at the helm. “How about you, Chekov?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chekov instantly spun in his seat, bright eyes gleaming. “I vas alveys wery fond of Orion. Did you know, zat constellation vas named after famous mythical Russian hunter—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m sure it was.” Jim placed a hand on the young navigator’s head and gave his hair a good tossle on the way back to the captain’s chair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keptin! Pleaz!” Chekov’s hands flew to his hair, and he tried to fix the damage while the bridge crew laughed good-humoredly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim was still smirking as Yeoman Salinas handed him the day’s fuel discharge report. He quickly glanced over the details, although he trusted the accuracy of her work. She had transferred to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enterprise </span>
  </em>
  <span>a few weeks ago from the last star base they stopped at, and had received high recommendations from her previous commander. He hadn’t had much chance to talk to her off duty yet, but remembered when he’d first shook her hand, she’d looked nervous. He scribbled his signature at the bottom and gave the PADD back to her. “Thank you, Salinas. Do you have a favorite constellation or celestial body?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She jumped slightly at the direct question. “Um, I’m not sure, sir,” she mumbled, eyes downcast towards the PADD.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surely there must be at least one you like?” He hoped his smile was reassuring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glanced at the science station display, where the star chart for this sector was gradually forming across the screen. “I always thought the butterfly nebula was very beautiful, sir.” She trailed off, and he was about to nod and agree, but then she continued. “My abuelo was from Angangeo, a village known for the monarch butterflies that migrate there every year around Dia de los Muertos. There, it is believed that the butterflies represent the souls of our ancestors returning to visit, and there’s a yearly festival to honor their presence. The festival is now more artistic than religious, but I have many good memories of visiting my abuelo and watching the monarchs’ orange wings fill the skies. Whenever I think of the butterfly nebula, I remember him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something warm floated in Jim’s chest at the sincerity in her story. He looked out the front viewing screen. “I’ve always wanted to see it in person. I think it’d be absolutely stunning up close.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about you, sir?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was his turn to be startled by her question, having started to slip into a daydream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Salinas’s grip on the PADD had relaxed, and a gentle smile had settled over her face. “What’s your favorite constellation?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Argo Navis,” he replied. “The first ship that ever sailed. The original constellation was divided into three in the Eighteenth Century. Carina, Puppis, and Vela—the keel, the stern, and the sails. Each one is impressive enough on its own, but I think they work better when put together. Sort of like your star system, Lieutenant.” He glanced over his shoulder at Uhura, who was no longer slouched over her station, but listening as intently as Salinas.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where I grew up on Earth,” he strode closer to the forward viewing screen, staring at the winking lights outside never before seen by other Federation eyes, “you couldn’t see it, since we were too far north and too far west. It sails near the horizon, and the Egyptians once used it to guide to the southern mouth of the Nile River.” He swept a hand out towards the screen to illustrate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Greek myth goes that the ship was built to make the journey to Colchis, a land at the edge of the known world. As a kid, I was enticed by the idea of such an epic journey into the unknown. Just imagine it.” His voice softened as he looked out at the stars, at the black space between them that actually spanned incredible distances. “The first people to see the edge of the world, where no one had gone before.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned away from the viewing screen and saw that the entire bridge’s attention was raptly fixated on him. Chekov had stopped calling out star coordinates, Scotty was wide awake, and even Spock had stood up from the scanner to listen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim cleared his throat, suddenly self-conscious of his sentimentality. “Of course, that’s just the legends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They say all legends have some basis in truth,” Salinas said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So they do,” Jim mused. He paced back over to the captain’s chair. “My favorite star I could see from home was always Polaris, the North Star. Even on overcast nights, you could see it shining above the horizon. We had an alright view from my hometown, but my parents would take my brother and me up north in the summer, and on clear nights, you could see the entire band of the Milky Way splitting the sky.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckled, almost to himself. “Now look at us. We get to see the galaxy from the opposite side!” Preoccupied by whimsy, he touched Salinas on the arm. He was just about to apologize, but her smile did not drop when she met his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He returned her smile before letting go. “Scotty,” he walked over to the engineer’s station and clapped him hard on the shoulder, “favorite star?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nae, sir.” Scotty twisted in his chair and beamed at him. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enterprise</span>
  </em>
  <span> here is the only shining star for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim hummed. “True enough, Mr. Scott.” He kept his hand on Scotty’s arm as he surveyed the bridge. Previously glum faces were now bright, and the beeps and clicks of the scanner were drowned out by the buzz of pleasant chatter. “True enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>* * * </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the end of alpha shift, Jim wandered down to sickbay. Nothing particularly exciting had happened while they charted the rest of the stars, but the ship’s morning had passed quickly in enjoyable conversation. His good mood showed in his easy smiles and firm handshakes he doled out to each crewmember he stopped to talk to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He strolled into sickbay expecting to find it as quiet as the rest of the ship. Instead, he stepped through the doors and was greeted with chaotic activity. Nearly every biobed was occupied, and nurses and orderlies swarmed between the patients.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nurse Chapel, fully engrossed in her PADD, slammed into him. She looked up in surprise. “Captain, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you have it, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Castorian fever.” Dr. McCoy had noticed them standing in the entryway and came over to report. He hovered near Jim’s elbow and bounced once on his toes. “Nothing too serious. The symptoms should disappear within twenty-four hours. We just have to inoculate everyone on the ship who’s been potentially exposed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim stared slack-jawed at medbay’s commotion. “When did this happen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“First signs started around 0900,” Bones said with a vague wave of his hand, “and we’ve been rounding up people with the other symptoms all day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why wasn’t I notified?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bones glared at him. “I haven’t had time to even eat half a sandwich yet, and you want me to sit down and do paperwork?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You at least could have called the bridge. It was a slow enough day up there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What for? Exposure started on the lower decks. It’ll all go in the report.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I meant you could have—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had a hard enough time wrangling Security Chief Morely—who’s an absolute moron, by the way, I told you you should have promoted Jensen instead—to get his staff to all come in for testing, only to discover that Ensign Jackson had smuggled a gallon of bootlegged Antarian cider on from the last space port that got passed around at last week’s poker night and half the victims are </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>vomiting.” His gestures were becoming increasingly agitated. “I’ve gone through three fucking pairs of scrubs in the past four hours, and you want me to </span>
  <em>
    <span>call</span>
  </em>
  <span> you whenever the chair gets a little boring?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was kidding, Bones, take it easy.” Jim put a hand on his shoulder, but he kept going.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could send you a message every time Lieutenant Farla’s allergies are acting up again, or ‘hey, Captain, just restocked all the hyposprays, next thing I’ll do is change the bedsheets.’ How ‘bout I give you a ping every time I go to the fresher and wipe my—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright doctor, that’s enough. I understand your concerns.” Jim squeezed his other shoulder to calm him down. He looked sheepishly at Chapel. “I think the doctor’s upset with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you really set him off. He’s been wound up tight all day, I was wondering when he’d explode.” Chapel studied Bones. “Look, his frown lines appear deeper than yesterday’s. I’m afraid if he keeps this up, they’ll get stuck like that and scare everyone away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim laughed. “Yeah, but we love him though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Speak for yourself, sir.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bones turned his glare on her. “I could have you transferred off this ship, y’know. Stick you on some backwater planet where the most advanced medical technology they’ve ever seen is the tricorder 2150.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t dare.” She met his glare dead on with even, unfazed eyes. “Besides, you couldn’t run this medbay without me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I could run it a lot better without you backseat driving over my shoulder all the goddamn time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lighten up, Bones. We know you run a tight ship around here.” Jim let go of one arm, but gave the other one a comforting pat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bones shifted his piercing gaze back to Jim, precise and intense as a medical laser. “I could </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly</span>
  </em>
  <span> run it a lot better without </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> coming down here to bother me all the time. I don’t know anything about starship captain’s duties, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a lot of work to do. I don’t have time to just stand around and chit-chat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim was about to point out that they had been standing around and talking for the past few minutes, but then wisely decided to keep that observation to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You.” Bones jabbed at Chapel. “Go check on Morley. His fever’s due to break any minute now, and when it does, it won’t be pretty. Have the morphine ready.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a nod and a clipped “Sir,” she scurried off, expertly weaving through the crowded sick bay and disappearing into the adjoining room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you.” This one was directed at Jim.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, I know.” Jim held up his hands and took a step back. “I’ll get out of your hair and let you get back to work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bones sighed. He stepped closer and touched Jim’s arm. “I was gonna say, ‘see you later tonight?’ After this shitshow, I need a drink.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim wrapped a hand around his wrist. “I’ll have one waiting for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not that pisswater you call alcohol. I’m bringing mine.” Bones squeezed his arm once before letting go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you later, then. Oh, and be nicer to Christine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be nicer to me,” Bones shouted over his shoulder, already moving to treat the next round of fever patients and chewing out some poor orderly along the way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim smiled to himself, then quietly exited sickbay, knowing his crew was in the best possible hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>* * *</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim leaned on the railing in the viewing deck and studied the tiny lights outside the viewport. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enterprise</span>
  </em>
  <span> was orbiting Kantare for shore leave, and most of the crew had already beamed down to enjoy themselves on lilac beaches and periwinkle mountains. Jim had trusted Chief Jensen’s assessment of the planet’s low threat level and had elected to stay on the ship until most of the crew vacated. After almost two months of travel through open space (though not uneventful—the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enterprise</span>
  </em>
  <span> had encountered and categorized three lifeforms new to the Federation and suffered five different malfunctions due to various causes), the crew had been getting antsy, and tempers were flaring. A bit of free time on a warm planet would do some good for everybody.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In truth, Jim probably needed the break more than most, though he never would admit that. He had just submitted to Starfleet condolence letters for the families of Ensigns Bevlon and Mi’Ritara, both of whom had died in a transporter malfunction two days ago. It had been an unpredictable accident, of course, but that didn’t stop their names from weighing heavily on Jim’s heart along with every other crewmember he’d lost. The lives he added to his mental list were starting to feel as numerous as the celestial bodies twinkling outside the viewport.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thought you’d be on shore already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim had been so lost in thought, he hadn’t heard Bones sneak up behind him. He turned just in time to see him approach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s this bar in the capital that boasts the best sidecars this side of the quadrant. I bet I make ‘em better, but it’d still be remiss of me not to try.” Bones jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “You coming along?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will be, I just wanted a minute alone with her.” Jim rubbed the railing affectionately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bones arched an eyebrow. “And here I thought you were sulking. Guess I can just leave—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know I never mind the company.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a small </span>
  <em>
    <span>hmph</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Bones joined him beside the railing and looked out at the stars. “Y’know, I never bought into the ‘conquer the frontier’ propaganda, but I can’t say I hate the views.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim sighed, a little bit wistful. “You don’t see it as well when you’re planetside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“True. But I’d still much rather have my feet on a pile of dirt instead of this pressured deathtrap we inhabit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hush, Bones, she can hear you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bones waved a hand. “She already knows what I think of her, and I haven’t been ejected from an airlock yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim laughed softly, then wrapped his arms around Bones’ middle and leaned into him. “Only because I asked her nicely not to,” he said, voice muffled against Bones’ shirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t have to look at him to know Bones was rolling his eyes. “Well thank the heavens for that, I suppose.” His hand rubbed between Jim’s shoulder blades, and Jim hummed contently, feeling the tension leak out of him like water down the drain. Bones’ shirt smelled like the linen sheets stuffed in the bottom of his dresser drawer, the one used to store his civilian clothes for the rare times they didn’t have to be Starfleet officers and just got to be people. If Jim breathed deep enough, he also got a whiff of something that reminded him of the mist that settled over San Francisco Bay in the mornings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let go and looked back out the viewport. “Bones, what’s your favorite star?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A couple weeks ago, I asked the bridge crew what their favorite stars and constellations were, but I never asked yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t say that I have one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But if you had to pick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bones sighed. “I don’t know, Jim.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, alright.” He dropped his pestering and returned to staring out the viewport, a comfortable silence settling over them both. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enterprise’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> current orbital position aimed the viewport towards the Pleiades star cluster. According to Greek myths, the Pleiades were seven sisters and daughters of Atlas, the Titan cursed to hold up the sky, and Pleione, whose name meant “sailing queen.” After Atlas was defeated by the gods, the sisters killed themselves out of grief, and they transformed into stars so they could have a place in the sky near their father. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim preferred this version of the myth more than the one where the sisters turned into stars to escape the incessant pursuits of Orion, although both filled him with a quiet melancholy. In the latter, the sisters could not find peace from an unwanted suitor except in death, and in the former, they were so consumed by grief and loss that they chose to spend eternity in the sky rather than remain on Earth. Despite recognizing the inherent tragedy in the myth, he also found it comforting to see the sisters immortalized, how even in death they were not forgotten, but together with their family.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cluster was named for the sisters because when it was first discovered on Earth, only seven stars were clearly visible, but in actuality, there were over 800, all born from the same cloud of gas and dust. Who else lived with the Pleiades, immortalized in the sky? Once they exploded and future stars were born from their dust, whose names would take their place? Would those names also inherit the sisters’ suffering, or the sense of community they achieved only in death? Jim didn’t know if he believed in an afterlife, but he wondered if his name would one day be written in a star cluster alongside others experienced in loss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The sun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lost in his rumination, Jim had forgotten he wasn’t alone. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s my favorite star. Good ol’ Sol.” Bones swept a hand out at the display of lights before them, the seven Pleiades and the rest of their kin. “All this sure is pretty, but we’ve yet to visit a planet with a star that feels exactly like the sun beating down on you on Earth in the middle of July.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim’s face stretched into a smile, totally against his will. “That so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The answer was so human, so incredibly </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bones</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that Jim felt like he should have known it before he even asked the question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you miss home?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bones’ mouth twisted, like he was rolling his response over his tongue to see how it tasted before spitting it out. “You mean Earth? Sure I miss it. I miss the grass, I miss the ocean, I miss Joanna. But Georgia hasn’t been home for a long time.” He leaned his forearms against the railing. “The only way I could miss home is if your ship here decided to disobey you and shoot me out the airlock.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A wave of warmth rose in Jim’s chest as he looked at him, the kind of warmth that spilled over the top of his head and made his toes tingle. If Bones caught him staring like this, he’d probably smack him, but he couldn’t help it, not when the starlight outside lit up Bones’ eyes brighter and bluer than a cloudless Terran sky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leaned over and planted a kiss right on the side of his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bones only looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “What was that for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Jim said, a stupid smile still splitting his face. “Just to tell you that I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bones grunted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim nudged him with his elbow. “I said, I love you, Bones.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard ya.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bones.” Jim pressed against his arm and infringed further and further into Bones’ space until his nose was almost touching his ear. “Bones. Bones Bones Bones Bones—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bones shoved him away, but he couldn’t mask his smile. “Alright already, cut it out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bones heaved an enormous sigh, rolling his eyes towards the heavens. “I love you, too, Jim.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See?” Jim grinned at him. “Was that so hard?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bones grumbled something he couldn’t hear, but then he cupped his hand around the back of Jim’s neck and pressed his lips to his temple. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim closed his eyes. The warmth swirled in his stomach and spread until every part of his body felt like it tingled. Temporarily, Jim forgot about the stars, forgot about the list of names on his heart, forgot about the vast unknown hanging out the viewport that threatened to swallow him every single day. For a few blissful seconds, nothing else existed except Bones’ mouth against his forehead and his hand in his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stood like that for a moment before Bones pulled away, leaving a lingering caress against the base of Jim’s skull that sent a shiver down his spine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim opened his eyes slowly, body feeling light, but he was no longer afraid of floating away. He joined Bones in leaning against the railing again, and together they gazed out at the scenery. The view wasn’t quite the same as from Minnesota, but it certainly was brilliant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After one last appreciative glance, Jim looked back at Bones and cocked his head. “You ready for that drink?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bones sighed in feigned relief. “Thought you’d never ask.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they started towards the transporter, the Pleiades seemed to wink at them from their cluster. Perhaps one day Jim would transform into a star with the rest of the dead, but that day was not today, not while he was still with his family.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, come talk to me on <a href="https://jamestfortitsoutkirk.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> and tell me about your favorite constellation.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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